Emotion

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Hannah Zhang, Alycia Love, & Celine Wei

On the brick entrance is a sign that reads “Psi Upsilon”, a foreboding sign of scarlet and ebony with the remnants of assault and hate etched into its walls. Its legacy is broken beds and random stains, as well as a slur or two carved into the window frame.

Yet on the second floor is an unusual sight. It’s four girls, sometimes five or six, running down the hallways, kicking a soccer ball or celebrating a birthday. The doors are often open, propped by door stops that were communally bought, yet sometimes closed, establishing personal boundaries. And even then, the voices in the hallway can be faintly heard, a reminder that they are never alone.

They are each other’s alarms — always buzzing with new thoughts and ideas, notifying each other of important news, urging each other to get food, and most frequently, being awoken in the mornings. It’s a fine line between caring and overbearing, yet somehow, they all manage to walk the line.

And sometimes, like all alarms, they make mistakes. Something is forgotten, something is misplaced, something is lost. They cower and hide, waiting for the lash to come. And it never does. Hugs are shared and stories are listened to. Soon, they learn how to stop flinching.

And together, they tighten the screws on the beds, wipe o the mattresses, and scratch out the slurs, building a reality of their own.

Saturday night, up late, just sitting. Sitting, sprawled on the floor talking. A feeling of real safety. Tomorrow morning holds responsibility and meetings and more work. But today is just here. When tears fall, they are allowed to fall, not hidden away. We won’t sleep tonight

There is no more dish soap downstairs. Laughter bubbles as the dishes soak in suds in the bathroom sink. One person rinses while another scrubs and another dries. Chores have never felt less like chores

Squeaky wheels on a tile patterned floor. Standing on the edge of a grocery store cart as it races down the aisle. Snacks and meals for later that week. No pressure or shame

Bad days aren’t nearly as lonely. No longer yelling and slamming of doors but quiet care. Did you eat today? Go take a shower, I’ll sit in the bathroom and play music. Four people sharing a twin size bed because close still isn’t close enough. I love you is chosen, not forced. I don’t know what safety and security in a family looks like, but if I had to imagine it, it would look a lot like this.